


Rejoice, Because You're Trying Your Best

by louare



Category: Original Work, Super Paper Mario (Game)
Genre: Blood, Crying, Forced Feeding, Inprisonment, M/M, Original Character(s), Prison, Self-Harm, Starvation, Suicide, a year in prison, have u ever wanted to read about the agonizing pain of ur son dying and ur one true love the reason?, its nothing graphic but i feel i should warn anyways, suicide warning, then here u go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louare/pseuds/louare
Summary: “I wish I could,” Damien said. “I’ve always loved you. It’s my curse. I love you, but I can never forgive you.”Kieran nodded.“When we die, Kieran,” Damien continued, ”I hope we suffer. We don’t deserve easy deaths, for what we’ve done.”Kieran nodded again. “I know,” he whispered, and pressed Damien’s head under his chin.





	Rejoice, Because You're Trying Your Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TruthfulDeceiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruthfulDeceiver/gifts).



> to make it clear- Kieran is the name of Blumiere's father, the head of the clan. Damien is the name of the Captain of the Guard, who, while not related by blood to Blumiere, is very close to him.  
> Elyscia, mentioned briefly in the story, is Kieran's mother, and Blumiere's grandmother. She was one of the main reason's Damien and Kieran could never express their love for each other.

Damien sat on his cot, staring at the wall as one of the guards brought his meal, and took away his uneaten one. Despite recognizing him, Damien gave no outward sign as Finley set down his tray.

He’s grown, he thought, haggard eyes following the guard. When he had last saw him, Finley was just a boy, still sneering and arrogant. Now he was a man, standing tall and proud with the faint wisp of a beard on his chin.

“Is there anything you need, Captain?” Finley said, turning to him, “Anything at all?”

“Let me free,” He whispered, but Finley only shook his head, and locked the door as he left.

He paused in front of the cell bars, looking in on the dark figure huddled on his cot. “Please eat, Captain, he said softly, “or else the healers will force you again.”

Damien shuddered, and nodded his acquiescence. Finley gave him a smile, and then left the broken man to his cold dungeon walls and even colder thoughts.

 

The funeral took place a few months after his incarceration. They allowed Damien to attend the ceremony in chains, if only in the hopes that it would help him accept his charge’s death.

He stood like a statue beside his lord, and the two guards assigned to watch him, as the cleric sang the death rites. Kieran was the first to light the pyre, followed by his parents, and then his mother’s father, the only one of his grandparents left alive.

The servants and guards fell to their knees as the pyre burned, but Damien couldn’t- he wouldn’t have, even if there hadn’t been magic holding him in place. He was just as family to Blumiere as those related to him by blood.

Kieran didn’t look at him once; not during the rites, not during the burning, not even as the congregation began to disperse, and he was led back to the castle. Somehow, that hurt worse than the ashes coating his skin as they slowly drifted down.

After the ceremony, he wasn’t taken back to the dungeon, like he expected. The guards marched him through the halls to the Lords study, and chained him to one of the plush chairs that sat in front of the desk. One hand was left free, but the two looked sorry they had to chain him at all.

This didn’t guilt them into leaving his chains loose, Damien noticed. He had taught them too well.

After a few minutes, they were joined by Kieran, who was followed by two healers and a servant carrying a food tray. Kieran sat behind the desk as the servant set the tray down, and then bowed.

 “You’re dismissed,” Kieran said. The servant left without a single backwards glance. Damien hardly raised his eyes away from the bandage around Kieran’s throat. It was healing well, he thought.

The Lord shifted in his chair, plucked an invisible piece of ash from his fine mourning suit, before finally raising his eyes to Damien, his face blank. “You haven’t been eating,” He said.

Damien nodded. There was no lying, when his body looked and felt like all bones.

Kieran pushed the food tray closer to him, a cup of broth and bread on its surface. “Eat,” Kieran said. “I refuse to let you starve yourself.”

Damien shook his head.

“Eat, or you shall be forced,” Kieran said, a warning tone to his voice.

Damien pressed his mouth together and turned away. He didn’t see the look Kieran gave the healers, but moments later his body stiffened in the chains as a paralyzing magic spread through his body. Cold and hot at the same time, and he couldn’t move, could hardly breath- a hand raised his chin, brushing the scar as it did so, and all Damien could muster was a thin moan as his mouth was forcibly opened.

“Drink,” a warm voice said, and that was all the warning he had before the cup was poured down his throat.

He choked- or he would have, if his body wasn’t out of his control. His throat swallowed for him. His fingers twitched. It was all the force he had to move with, a twitch, even though he was trying to claw at the hand at his throat.

“Chew,” said the voice, and then a chunk of bread was placed in his mouth. He still felt like he was choking from the broth but his mouth began to chew of its own accord. Chewing, then swallowing- all while the cold fire boiled in his veins and Kieran looked on, indifferent.

He swallowed the last piece and knew immediately as his chin was released, and a cold hand patted his cheek. The cold and hot began to drain. His head lolled, catching a glimpse of one of his guards-Finley, he’d recognize that arrogant set mouth anywhere- looking rather pale.

“I refuse to let you starve yourself,” Kieran said, softer this time. “Take him back to the dungeons. “

His body still tingled and trembled as they lifted him from the chair and dragged him to his cell. It took hours before the feeling went away.

 

Damien looked at the tray Finley brought, and pulled it closer.

 

When the guard came to collect it half an hour later, Damien was sitting up in his bed, alert. Finley glanced at the tray, saw it was empty, and smiled.

“Thank you, Captain.” He murmured.

“Finley-“ He called out, just as the guard was leaving, then hesitated. Finley turned to look at him, and waited as Damien fidgeted.

“What,” he started, then cleared his throat. “What day is it?”

Finley looked at him. “August 3rd, Captain,” he said, then shut the door behind him. His boots echoed as he made his way down the hall. 

Damien slumped and stared at the ceiling. It had been 7 months since he had been placed in the cell.

 

“What is her name again?” Damien asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Timpani,” Blumiere said again with a sigh. “I’ve told you five times- and she’s so beautiful. Her hair is just-“

“The color of fire, burning like the same fire in her dark brown eyes that you can just-“ Damien laughed at the look on Blumiere’s face. “You’ve told me _more_ than five times, if I can recall.”

“Oh, hush,” Blumiere scowled.

“You should tell your father, perhaps he could set up a meeting,” Damien suggested.  “What is this oh so wonderful girl’s clan name?”

At this, Blumiere hesitated, looking away to fiddle at a loose string on his trousers. “Well…”

 

The first month of his incarceration, Damien hardly felt the time passing. The days went by like seconds, spent staring at the same dark walls and dark ceiling, feeling the shadows cast by the dungeon lamps creep across his skin like spirits.

At night, he felt the book calling to him again. He was so close, it crooned, he was so close last time, just escape and it would make this awful world disappear, this awful world with its awful people and awful, horrific, unfair life. 

The guards were forced to restrain him to his cot at night. If not, Damien would bash himself against the cell bars, trying to break free no matter what the costs.

In the end, someone realized that the room where the book was kept was only a floor above his cell. Near the end of the first month, it was finally moved. It took over two weeks before Damien was considered back to himself again, and was released.

 

“Captain,” Eliza nodded to him as he exited his quarters, back in his old cloak and uniform. His sword was still confiscated, but he could get it back at his leisure. “You look well.”

Damien smiled. “Thank you. I feel well.” He stretched, the familiar chainmail and cotton stretching with him. “I presume it is lunchtime? My stomach is telling me so, at least.”

Eliza laughed, “Well, your stomach is right on time! Lord Kieran is having his lunch in the dining hall right now, I’m sure he would be glad for you to join him.”

“Wonderful,” Damien said. “I would love to join him. Lead the way.”

Eliza turned sharply and began down the hall, Damien following after. His hand found his scar, and he began rubbing at the tingling underneath it. It wasn’t quite itching, he thought, but rather stinging. Perhaps that month in the dungeon did something to him after all. He would have to have the healers look at it later.

The dining hall loomed ahead; he could tell by familiarity, and the servants carrying dishes back and forth from the kitchen to the dining hall. One of them bumped into him, spilling her tray of plates and utensils all over the ground.

“Oh! Captain Cyrus-“

“I’m so sorry. Here…”

He helped her pick them up, Eliza waiting for him nearby, and with a final murmured apology, they continued on through the large wooden doors into the dining hall.

Kieran was keeping a small company today. There were only three others at the long dining table, partaking in lunch. Damien glanced at them, but already knew they weren’t important- important ones were dinner guests, not lunch guests.

Eliza was still leading him, but he sped up his pace and quickly passed her, walking up right beside Kieran’s chair, never taking his eyes off his target.

“Lord Kieran,“ he said, and when Kieran turned to look at him, he stabbed the butter knife hidden in his palm directly into his lord’s neck.

Five bodies hit his all at once, and Damien hit the ground hard, a tangle of arms and legs that were all trying to hold him down.

“Call the healers!” Eliza yelled, and kneeled down by Lord Kieran. Her hands glowed with her magic.

“Leave him!” Damien screamed at her, “Let him die! Just like he let Blumiere die!”

Someone tried to cover his mouth, but he bit at them, tossing his head.  “You killed him!” he shrieked, fighting against the hands. “You killed him as much if you were holding the blade yourself! Bastard!”

Kieran let out a choking noise.

Damien screamed and cursed the lord’s name until the healers finally sedated him. Hours later, he woke up, back in his cell.

 

“…I don’t know her family name.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

 “It didn’t come up!” Blumiere burst. “All I could think about was-“

“Fire hair, eyes like a wood, I remember,” Damien nodded, leaning back. The garden bench creaked under him. “Sounds like a Solance, but you can never be sure. Ask next time, alright?”

“I will, I will,” Blumiere assured. He looked down at his trousers again. “Would you… would you help me pick some flowers? I mean, I know what I like, but I don’t know what _she_ would like or what girls like or-“

“Of course I will,” Damien stood, holding out a hand to help his charge. “Little Blumiere, picking his first bouquet- how could I miss such an occasion?”

“Dad- Damie,” Blumiere groaned,” I feel like you’re going to set me up with something ugly now.”

“ I would never do that, Little Blue,” Damien said, but the grin on his face gave him away. He stepped over to a wilted rose bush, ready to be taken to the trash heap and lifted a blackened head. 

“Do you believe she would like this one? I’ve always heard girls love dead flowers.”

“I’m regretting this already,” Blumiere muttered, but he looked at his father figure with a smile.

 

The mind healers came next, trying to speak with him. They assured him that Lord Kieran had survived his attack, that all was forgiven, but he wouldn’t be released until they were sure he wouldn’t do it again.

Damien told them that Kieran shouldn’t have lived, and if they didn’t believe him, ask Lord Kieran himself. He then turned away to the wall, and spoke no more.

 

After the book was moved, the guards stopped chaining him to his cot, but the nightmares still never ceased. Its influence wasn’t as strong, but Damien could still feel it, slithering over his skin as it found him in the night. If he were weaker, he would have cried when it came.

If he were weaker, he would have long since given in.

As it was, he shook as it came for him, sliding down his throat and up his legs and bringing out that dark place deep inside. It froze him in place- like a paralyzing spell, but worse, just cold down to his very bones. He could never stopped it, no matter how tightly he wrapped himself in the blankets.

Every night, it brought those whispers.

_Kill them. Kill them all._

_It’s his fault- if he hadn’t gone after that girl…_

_Take the book, bring him back, you can fix all of this-_

“Blumiere,” Damien murmured through frozen lips, and trembled.

 

Since he was the only guard Damien didn’t scream at or try to bite, Finley became a regular visitor, and eventually, the only guard personally assigned to him. Damien felt normal around him. He was the only guard who never looked at him with a forced smile or sickly pity.

“Captain,” he said one day, safely behind the bars outside, “Do you remember, when I was… in…“

“When you were in training, and you taunted my relationship with the lord?” Damien finished. Finley scratched his head and muttered something in such a way that Damien knew he had hit the mark.

The more time he spent with him, the more he remembered about Finley- the time he fell down the front steps, the few mentions he’d received about his improvement in reports. The one thing that stuck out was the day after he’d been released from the hospital, and after Kieran had been seen defending him. Finley wasn’t the only one, but he had been the cruelest.

_Kieran, Kieran,_ that dark place chanted, but it was easy to ignore as Finley spoke up.

“I just… I want to apologize for what I said. I mean, I know I apologized back then, but I guess I didn’t mean it. It was really out of line for me to say.”

“I’ve long since forgiven you, Finley,” Damien said. “You were young, and perhaps a bit foolish, but you’ve changed since then. How could I hold it against you?”

“If you can forgive me,” Finley murmured, in a low tone, “then why can’t you forgive Lord Kieran?”

 

Moonlight beamed through the castle windows, illuminating the hall in a dreamy glow. It was a picture Damien was used to seeing on his nightly patrols, but as he walked up to the boy frozen in the pearl-like light, even he had to admit- this was a new one.

“Usually, if one is attempting to sneak out, they try to do a better job than this.” Damien said. “You _know_ I always patrol here.”

“I forgot.” Blumiere mumbled. 

“Then I have a tip for next time: don’t.” He took a seat on the windowsill, and patted the space beside him. Blumiere gave him a look, and then slowly sat, nervousness in every movement.

It only took a few minutes of silence before Blumiere broke. “Are you going to tell father?”

“I don’t believe I will,” Damien said. “After all, you’re sneaking out to meet her, aren’t you?”

Blumiere turned to him with a look of shock.

“Hey, I’ve snuck out to meet my fair share of boys,” Damien defended. “I’m not unfamiliar with the concept. Though, I’ll admit, I was a lot better at it-“

“I get it, I messed up,” Blumiere said with a groan,” I just- I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. All I knew is that if… if I don’t see her again, I’d go crazy.”

“Oh, the magic of young love,” Damien crooned. Blumiere groaned and rubbed his face.

“Please, Damie?” He said, giving Damien his best pleading look.

“You don’t have to pull those eyes out on me, Little Blumiere, I already said I wouldn’t tell Kieran,” Damien reminded. “Now listen closely- patrols are the fifth, third, and first until midnight,” Blumiere nodded. “If you go now, you can hide in one of the broom closets on the second floor until the shift change, and the sneak out then.” Damien held up his hands. “I’m not helping you sneak back in though, that’s your own problem.”

“Thanks Dad!” Blumiere threw his arms around Damien, then bounced up and raced down the hallway.

“Might want to go a little quieter than that!” Damien called after him. The footsteps slowed.

Damien sighed as he stood up, rubbing his tired eyes. He had no doubt he’d be hearing reports of the young Lord being found by every guard in the castle tomorrow.

 

Damien looked back at the guard. “He doesn’t deserve to be forgiven, Finley.” He said, his voice just above a murmur. “And he knows it too.” 

He turned away and ignored him until he left.

 

Damien walked in a daze. Screams and sobbing rang in his ears, but he did not stop. He wouldn’t.

He had nothing left for him, and suddenly, it simply wasn’t worth fighting against the whispers in his ears.

Damien made his decision. The whispers told him where to go, and he went. 

 

Damien was wrapped in his blankets when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He didn’t look up at first, but then the boots stopped outside his cell.  Knuckled rapped on the metal plate on the door.

“Captain?”

He recognized the voice; it was Finley.

“I wanted to check up on you,” the guard said. “I was reading up on some old reports, and… well, I know they’ve had the thing moved, but I wanted to see how you were anyways. It’s the worst at night, right?” He paused. “Could you… Could you say something, or peek your head out? Anything?”

Damien managed a twitch through his frozen limbs.

“Captain?” Finley paused, but Damien didn’t move again. “…Alright.”

Damien heard him slide down the wall, and there was a clink as he set something down. “Only a couple hours til my morning shift starts,” Finley said. “I don’t think it’s worth going back to sleep, so I suppose I’ll spend it down here. “

He talked, and Damien listened. The cold didn’t leave until morning, but it was better- easier with Finley. He couldn’t describe how happy he was when Finley came back the next night.

 

Kieran slammed his hands against the wall. Damien, sitting slumped in one of the plush chairs, watched him swing a fist into the stone bricks once, and then again.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he muttered. 

“If I don’t I’m going to hurt that boy,” Kieran growled. “What are we going to do with him?”

Damien was silent, because, he didn’t know either.

Kieran punched the wall once more, then cradled his hand and dropped down into his chair, closing his eyes with an agonized expression. “What are we going to do?” He whispered again.

“…He loves her.” Damien offered. “He truly does love her. Whether it’s mutual, I can’t say, I’ve never even seen the girl.”

“How do you know?” Kieran said, turning to him. “What does he say about her?”

Damien hesitated. Kieran’s eyes remained on him, an ocean of pleas.

“…He…”

 

The guards had not abandoned their post, but were looking rather nervous at the sounds drifting through the halls. They both had their swords drawn, and raised them as Damien approached.

“Identify yourself!” One barked at him.

“Captain Damien Cyrus,” he said, stopping in front of the pair. “There has been a situation, but it is being taken care of. There is no need to worry.”

“Should we stay ‘ere?” the other questioned.

“Yes, but you need to let me through.” Damien gave them a reassuring smile. “I need to affirm the book is still safe.”

“We haven’t moved!” One offered. Damien gave him a look.

“I am your captain, and I am ordering you to step aside. I need to verify the book has not been tampered with.”

The pair gave each other a look, but stepped aside. Damien opened the large doors and slipped through.

 

“…He talks about her, like I talked about you.” Damien finally said.

Kieran suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze.

 

Little Blumiere had a voice like a bell, clear and bright, and magnetic enough to catch a room’s attention in seconds.

Damien just wished he could hear it one last time.

 

It hovered on its platform, and as he walked closer, it sang to him, praised him, and promised- _We can fix this. We’ll make it right,_ It said.

Damien climbed up the steps of the dais, closing his eyes to listen better.

_We’ll bring him back._

_We’ll destroy the ones who killed him._

_We’ll destroy them all._

Damien opened his eyes, and found himself right in front of the book.  A shout came from behind him. He paid it no mind.

_Help me, and I’ll help you._ It sang, _Help me, and we’ll bring him back. **Your little Blumiere.**_

His arms were outstretched, but the name was enough to stop him, if only for a second. “Blumiere,” he murmured, lowering his hands.

The guards tackled him to the floor.

 

September, Finley had told him. The cold was beginning to seep through the walls. Most nights found him curled in a heap on his bed, the lantern pulled close and the sheets wrapped tight around him. He had to cradle his hands and feet to keep from frostbite.

Sometimes he wondered how bad it would become when winter was truly upon him, and sometimes, he thought about Kieran.

Perhaps, Damien pondered, he wouldn’t be so cross if Kieran had been the one to find the body.

Kieran loved Blumiere, Damien knew this for a fact, but by the gods, Kieran never had time for him. He was always meeting with other clan leaders, assembling defenses, resolving conflicts- Damien couldn’t remember the last time the father and son had sat down to talk together. Damien couldn’t even remember the last time they had shared a meal together.

Was there ever a possibility of Kieran finding the body, Damien wondered, with that human girl’s death over their heads, and the tension between them all?

No, he concluded.

Kieran wouldn’t have checked up on Blumiere when he was late for breakfast; he would have sent a servant to fetch him, or sent the meal to his room, as he had so often did before.

Then the servant would have been the one to find him.

Little Blumiere, lying in his bed, as if asleep.

His eyes opened, staring to nothing.

And the sword blade he had lain on sticking through his chest like some sort of awful decoration, stained with blood that was dripping all around his still body, soaked in the sheets and even in his white shirt and pants and-

Damien opened his eyes, and realized he was rubbing his scar again. Better than screaming, he thought. That was all he could do when he first found Blumiere. Scream until his throat ached, and scream until the rest of the castle screamed with him.

 

The blankets were a gift from the warden. Cynthya knew how his scars ached in the cold. If only, Damien thought, if only she knew how tempting it was sometimes to wrap it around his throat and pull.

 

Kieran finally visited him in what Finley would later tell him was January. 12 months. An entire year since he had first been placed in his cell.

The lord stood outside the bars, not speaking as Damien looked him over. He looked groomed, Damien thought, handsome and grave, still in his black mourning suit. His bandage was gone. There was only a fair scar, short and white against his dark skin. _He deserves worse,_ that dark place hissed, but Damien fought it down. He didn’t want to ruin the visit already.

“You look like you haven’t been eating.” 

Damien shuddered reflexively. “I have.” He said. “There are consequences to being locked away day and night.”

Kieran looked away and bobbed his head in agreement. A pause.

“Elyscia’s dead,” He said finally.

“How?”

“They say it was grief.”

Damien snorted.

“She did love him, you know,” Kieran murmured, but his tone was not cruel.

“She didn’t know him,” Damien said. “She saw him, what, once a year, if that?”

Kieran sighed, but didn’t argue. He stayed still and straight as Damien got to his feet, swaying in his thin bones as he stumbled to the cell bars. His hands went through the thin gaps; he was close enough to grab the lord, if he wanted, but Kieran didn’t move an inch.

They stared at each other, two proud, striking figures, unwilling to give.

“He did it because of you.” Damien said.

Kieran closed his eyes and nodded.

“He loved her,” Damien continued. “Is that something you can even understand? Love? He loved more than he loved me or you. She was all he talked about. The second they met, she was his entire world.”

Kieran’s voice was soft. “She was one of them.”

“So you would rather have him dead than dating a human-”

Kieran snatched the front of Damien’s shirt and slammed him against the bars, spitting out with their faces inches from each other- “ _Don’t you dare say that,”_ His fingers dug through the thin shirt and caught on Damien’s chest.  “I loved him! He was my son,  I _never_ wanted him dead! You- you can’t say you wouldn’t have done the same, if it was your child, in love with one of those… those monsters.”

“I’d like to think I wouldn’t have,” Damien whispered. “I saw myself in him. I saw that same love I had for you.”

Kieran’s face crumpled, and his grip loosened. Damien pulled away, letting Kieran’s hands fall limp to his sides. The lord stared down at the ground for a long time, and when he looked up, there were tears in his eyes.

“I hear it,” He started, his voice trembling. “I hear it every night, even though I had it moved. It calls to me. It begs me, saying that I can bring him back. That I can stop this agony this world has brought me, if I would just-“

“Listen to it.” Damien finished. “Use it. Help it.” 

Kieran closed his eyes tightly, nodding. “I want to.” He murmured. “There is nothing I want more. “

“Then why don’t you?” Damien asked- his voice wasn’t a taunt, but a genuine question. He came close to the book, so close he could still remember the taste of its magic on his tongue. If he was free, he would try to take it again. What bars stopped Kieran?

“It’s hidden from me,” Kieran admitted. “The sorcerers have been working with it for over a year, now. I’ve been told they’re coming close.”

Damien stared. Horror welled in his chest; he stepped back up to the bars, wrapping his arms around the cold metal. “Kie-Kieran… Kieran, what are they-“

“Destroying it.” Kieran finished, and Damien recognized the indifference coming over his face, as the lord shut away his emotions. “It is the most logical thing to do. I’m surprised we haven’t tried sooner.”

“Kieran!” he shrieked, but Kieran’s face remained blank.  “The- the power! It can- You can’t destroy that book! _We can still bring him back!_ Kieran-“

“That book lies,“ Kieran whispered. “That’s all it gives: lies and empty promises. I’m surprised you haven’t learned that by now.”

“ _Kieran!”_

“I’ll leave you to rest, Captain,” Kieran said, and with a nod, he started down the hallway. Damien strained against the bars, pressing so hard against them he knew he’d have bruises later.

_“Kieran! Come back! You can’t destroy that book!”_

Kieran walked on.

 

He found Blumiere in the garden. He was sitting on his favorite bench, in one of the prettiest parts of the grounds. The flowers, prodded by the magic of the gardeners, were in full bloom around him. Blumiere had his face in his hands, and Damien felt his stomach drop as he saw the tremble in the boy’s shoulders.

“Blumiere,” He called softly. “Blumiere, your father meant well-“

He stopped as Blumiere raised his head, revealing a tear-streaked face and the most anguished expression he had ever seen. “Don’t say that to me.” He choked out. “ Don’t you dare say- I can’t- believe-“

He choked on a sob, and fury flashed across his face; He opened his mouth, and bit down hard on his own wrist.

“Blumiere!” Damien rushed forward and jerked his arm out of his mouth, holding his hands tightly. “Don’t do that,” he said softly, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” Blumiere hissed. “He… He killed her!”

“Blumiere…” Damien squeezed the boy’s hands. “She was a human,” He started. “She would have betrayed you eventually.”

“You don’t know that,” Blumiere tried to jerk away, but Damien held firm.

“Yes, I do.” He raised his chin, exposing the red scar that trailed up his neck and cheek. “I fell in love with a human once too,” he said softly. “I- I loved him. I loved him like you love her, but he betrayed me. Just like she would have betrayed you.”

Blumiere gazed back at him with tear-filled eyes for a long moment, then jerked his hands away. Damien let him.

“You don’t know that,” he spat. He stood, pushing Damien aside and storming back towards the castle. Damien could do nothing but watch him leave, feeling a sad emptiness welling up in his chest.

Blumiere would realize the truth, he thought. But Blumiere didn’t. He took his stubborn soul to the grave, and left his body for Damien to find hours later.

 

He felt the exact moment the book was destroyed. It felt as though a hand over his heart had finally went limp, and he could breathe and laugh and cry again.

Damien found himself doing all three. He didn’t know whether he laughing because it was over, or crying because there was no hope.

 

Three days later, Damien was released, and given back his position as Captain of the Guard. There wasn’t a soul who didn’t argue with Lord Kieran about the decision. Damien didn’t know how, but Kieran shot each and every one of them down, and sent a message throughout the castle: he would not be moved.

Before long Damien reassumed his authority, with bumps and bristles from those who remembered his actions, but they learned not to taunt him. He was no longer allowed a sword, but his words cut like a blade. Order was restored to the place it was before his imprisonment; it was as though the past year had never occurred at all.

There was one difference: Damien took on an apprentice. Finley was promoted to second in command, directly underneath him.

 

Another year passed. A day after the mourning period ended, Kieran and Damien married.

The ceremony was small; the only guests invited were the residents of the castle to witness it and the cleric to wed them. Word leaked out, however, as Damien was seen out in his crown and royal attire. The two lords, to their credit, didn’t hide the conjoining; when they receive invitations for dinner from neighboring clans, they accepted them all. Damien played the part of Lord so charmingly and well, the clan leaders had no choice to accept him. In truth, they welcomed him. The Noir clan was finally recovering from their loss, and it was clear who’s doing that was.

It was on one of these dinner parties that a Lady finally spoke the question on everyone’s mind.

“Lord Cyrus,” Lady Attila said, laughing slightly over her cup of wine,” I hope you won’t mind me asking, but- whatever happened with that incident a few years back?”

The table stilled. Every eye was on Damien. 

Damien raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Which incident? A few years is quite a long time.”

“Oh, you know,” she waved her hand. “It- oh, right, after our dear Little Blumiere’s passing. There was a rumor going around that you had- oh, this is silly- incarcerated.”

She giggled, but Damien’s laugh outmatched her, ringing through the room like a bell. 

“Oh, that incident- It was a training exercise for the men,” Damien explained, pausing to sip at his wine.

“Training?” Lady Attila pressed.

“I was once Captain of the Guard, if you would remember,” Damien continued. “I created a scenario to test the guard’s skills in the case of an incident. I’ve very proud to say they responded completely appropriately and well.” Damien smiled, and turned to Lord Attila on his left, but the Lady had one more question.

“But- oh, if it was just an exercise, weren’t you overseeing them? You weren’t seen for over a year.”

Damien chuckled. “I was in dire need of a vacation, my Lady.”

The table laughed, and the tension eased. Underneath the table, Kieran’s hand found Damien’s knee, and squeezed.

 

In the silent peace of the night, the couple lay together, awake and in each other’s arms. Damien’s head was tucked under Kieran’s chin. Their legs were tangled. Their hands were touching. The wavering light from the lamps flickered across their bodies. Even locked in each other’s embrace, and even with the book and its whispers destroyed, the pair rarely found sleep.

Damien felt Kieran clear his throat. “Darling,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Damien said. 

Kieran hesitated. “Everything.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” Damien pulled away and rested his head on the pillow, watching Kieran’s eyes glow mournfully at him across the bed. “If you mean for killing our son, then I forgive you. If you mean for not dying along with him, then perhaps you need to apologize a little better.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” Kieran repeated. “I’m sorry for turning you away when you first confessed. I’m sorry for sending that girl away, and telling Blumiere she was dead. And I’m sorry for letting you rot in that dungeon.”

“Anything else you’re sorry for?”

Kieran took Damien’s hands again, running his thumb across the bony knuckles of his fingers. “Do you hate me?” he whispered.

“I wish I could,” Damien said. “I’ve always loved you. It’s my curse. I love you, but I can never forgive you.”

Kieran nodded.

“When we die, Kieran,” Damien continued,” I hope we suffer. We don’t deserve easy deaths, for what we’ve done.”

Kieran nodded again. “I know,” he whispered, and pressed Damien’s head under his chin.

 

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> I know this fic is a little disjointed! so if anyone asks for a timeline, i'll add it, ay?


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